Adoption and Faith
Before You Were Mine
A couple of weekends ago, I got to spend the weekend at the Created for Care retreat with some of my best friends. It was so nice to have a weekend away and to get to spend it with over 400 other adoptive mommas.
I loved getting to hear from some of my favorite speakers from last year’s retreat. I’m so blessed by these women who chose to spend their weekend sharing their wisdom and experience with all of us younger moms. This year there was a new speaker, Carissa Woodwyk, who spoke about her experience as a Korean adoptee. I’m always hungry to hear from grown adoptees. I guess part of this stems from my anxiety as an adoptive momma. Am I doing things right? Am I loving them enough? Am I respecting their past, acknowledging their pain, giving them what they need to heal?
Carissa reminded me of the importance of letting my kids have their own story. Their lives didn’t begin when they came to our home. They have a past before us. All kids who have been adopted have a past; even babies who are adopted at birth have a past before their adoptive parents. To tell their story as if it started with us is not only selfish, it’s damaging. So I was inspired by Carissa to write down all the details of Josiah’s and Evelyn’s stories before they joined our family. No, I don’t know every detail, but I know a lot.
I thought I would share with you the opening I wrote for Evy. I’m not sharing the details because those are for her only, to share if and when she wants to. But I hope that this will maybe inspire other adoptive moms (and bio moms – everyone would love to have their story written down!).
Dear Evelyn,
For the last two years, I’ve been piecing together your past, trying to fit the people and events together to write your story before you came to us. I want you to have this to reflect on. I hope that reading this will show you, not only how loved you have been by your birth family and by your forever family, but that God has held you in the palm of His hand since the moment of your conception. He has loved you more than words can explain.
I don’t understand why your birth family has suffered so much, but I know that God loves them. Our world is broken. And ever since Adam and Eve first sinned, that pain and brokenness has rippled throughout creation. It affects our health, our families, our environments, our ability to provide for ourselves and our children, our social systems, our governments, and every other aspect of our lives. I believe that God is in control, but, as I said, I don’t understand why He has allowed these things to happen to your family. But I also believe that He makes all things beautiful. I know that He can and will redeem and restore all things, and this includes your family and your relationship with them. Whether we experience it in this life or not, He will redeem and restore even this.
I want you to know that your daddy and I consider your birth family to be our family. We pray for them, we love them, and we will be forever grateful to them. They have given us the most amazing gift . . . YOU. I will forever cherish the moments we have spent with your birth mother. They are so precious to me. She and I have a strong bond, and that bond is you.
I want you to know that this was not an easy decision for your birth mother. She loves you with all of her heart. She will never forget you. You will always be her daughter. And I feel so blessed to share the role of mother with her. You have two mothers . . . you always will. I cannot replace her, and I don’t want to. I want you to know that I am not threatened by her, and I will always respect the role that she plays in who you are. You have my full blessing to love her as her daughter should love her.
So here is your story, though it’s only the beginning. As I write this, you are three and a half years old, and yet you already have such a deep history. But your future is so much wider. I can’t wait to see the plans that God has in store for you . . .
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Mary Beth Picker is a wife and mother of three. Two of her children were adopted from Ethiopia. She and her husband are actively involved in work in Ethiopia through Lifesong for Orphans. Read more about her and her family at Picker Points!
When There’s “Nothing” You Can Do
Have you ever had a really, really big problem? I have. Frankly, it seems like Dan and I deal with them all the time.
We have two adopted children. They came to us from unbelievably harsh circumstances and have many demons in their closets. There are days that I fear they’ll never fully recover… and there’s really “nothing” I can do about it.
Our ministry serves imprisoned children. Imprisoned. Children. It’s a problem so big and so complicated that there’s really “nothing” I can do about it.
Really big problems tend to make me feel… really helpless. Can you relate? Have you ever faced a mountain so big that you knew you couldn’t scale it? Or perhaps you’ve heard these words from a doctor… “I’m sorry. There’s ‘nothing’ we can do.”
This week, I was blessed and encouraged by these words from my morning Bible study…
There is rarely nothing you can do.
Being still and knowing He is God a long shot from nothing.
Trusting in a God you cannot see is a long shot from nothing.
Holding your tongue is a long shot from nothing.
Counting it all joy is a long shot from nothing.
Submitting is a long shot from nothing.
Confessing sin is a long shot from nothing.
Resting in Christ is a long shot from nothing.
And hear this one really loudly: praying is a long shot from nothing.”– Beth Moore, Mercy Triumphs
No matter how bleak the circumstances, no matter how high the walls… we serve a God who’s bigger than all of our problems combined. There’s rarely “nothing” we can do. And I will rejoice and rest in that.
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Shelly Owens
Dan and Shelly live in Atlanta, Georgia with their five children. Dan is the CEO of SixtyFeet, a ministry serving the imprisoned children of Africa. Shelly is a stay-at-home-mom who does volunteer work for SixtyFeet and delights in homeschooling her crew.
Isn’t There Another Way?
Last night my mind was running through all of the paperwork for adoption grants yet to be applied to, then to all of the paper work yet to be filled out when we apply to agencies, then to all the paper work that I don’t even know about that will likely happen after being matched with a birthmom. As I was mentally picturing all of these papers yet to be filled out and all of the papers that we’ve already done, well…I felt tired. Then I thought, “Isn’t there an easier way?”
God instantly brought to mind Jesus in the Garden of Gethsemane, staring into the cup of God’s wrath that awaited Him as He looked ahead to the cross. And He pleaded, “My Father, if it be possible, let this cup pass from me; nevertheless, not as I will, but as you will.” (Matthew 26:39) But He knew there wasn’t another way. Our sin completely separated us from God. It was either Jesus endure incredible suffering and agony being hung on the cross, taking on God’s full punishment for sin or God’s children could not be a part of His family forever. There was no other way.
I’m not trying to compare adoption paper work to the crucifixion of Jesus, believe me. But, I think the Lord wanted to show me two things through remembering this. First, no amount of suffering I go through compares to the suffering that Jesus went through for me. He was still completely human while He was completely God. So He completely felt every bit of that excruciating pain and suffering. It wasn’t lessened because He was sovereign and knew what was coming next. And that pain? Being utterly separated from His father and having every sinful thought, action, and word heaped on Himself, bearing the guilt and full weight of that sin even though He had never done anything wrong, and taking the punishment for it all…that is a pain unimaginable.
My weariness at all this paperwork? It is real and it is hard but it does not compare to all that Christ went through for me. I will never know what it’s like to have every single sin of every single person put on me. I will never know what it’s like to then experience God’s wrath and condemnation against all of that evil that I never actually did. I will never know it because Jesus suffered in my place.
Secondly, adoption is not easy. It wasn’t easy for God to adopt His children into His family. It wasn’t easy for Him to send His Son to the cross. It wasn’t easy and pain free for Jesus to be crucified. God’s adoption of His children came at a great cost to Himself. Is it any wonder that there would be some hard things for us as we’re in the process of adopting?
So when I picture the paperwork that awaits me, I want to be amazed at what Jesus has done to make me God’s child. I want to stand in awe as I remember that there was no other way. And I want to thank God that Jesus didn’t give up in the midst of the hard but said, “Not my will, but Yours be done.”
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Katie Fenska
Life is a gift that I’m trying to savor through the often exhausting (yet beautiful) days caring for my three cuties (Tali: 5yrs, Owen: 4yrs, Addie: 2yrs). In the midst of changing diapers, kissing boo-boos, supporting my amazing hubby as he pastors, and taking copious amounts of photos, I’m wrestling to trust God at home. Through it all, Jesus has remained faithful to me despite my daily failures. I love to write honestly about life as a Christian woman, as a mama, as a wife, and as a soon to be adoptive mommy. It would be an honor to have you stop by my blog, Trusting God At Home!
The Waiting Room
I am home. It’s been strange.
People will walk up and congratulate me and ask where the kids are. They aren’t here. I left them in Ethiopia without a choice or a say in the matter. They are now our legal children, Moses Paul Roepnack and Miriam Paul Roepnack, but we must wait for a US Embassy appointment in a few months to fly out and pick them up.
In the meantime, we got a few new pics from some wonderful traveling parents. Buried within one of the albums, we found a video of our girl, taking her first unassisted steps. As soon as it cued up, I began cheering her on… yelling into the computer, clapping, screaming…”GOOD GIRL!!! Mama’s so proud! Good girl, Miriam…!!!”
….And the video cuts out.
Not long after, Paul took the girls upstairs, and I began my nightly chores.
Suddenly, my knees buckled, I hit the floor, and I had my first BIG cry. The open-mouthed, punched in the stomach, heart in your throat, can’t even breath, big ugly cry.
I dug my fingers into the wood floor below me, and screamed silently, so that two sweet little girls upstairs didn’t have to hear what I felt.
I thought of my how she can’t hear me cheering for her.
I thought of the day I walked away and left them behind.
I thought of all these lost days.
I thought of the picture I recieved a week after I got home, of my sweet girl sitting alone on a concrete floor in a Bumbo chair (she hates sitting in Bumbo chairs) and still wearing the pajamas I brought for our slumber parties, and my insides scream for Mercy.
I thought of my son, and his brand new growing “fro”, and how I long to run my fingers through his hair and rock my strong little man to sleep.
I thought of Laura.
We were supposed to be walking this path together.
Suddenly, I feel a hand on my shoulder, and a blanket of warmth cover over me on the floor, and I know it’s Him.
And He’s just in time.
You see; I’m on a God Honeymoon.
God doesn’t leave mothers alone on the floor. He loves earthly mothers so much, that when Jesus was struggling for breath on the cross, he was arranging for his own mother’s care. It was one of the last things he did before he died under the weight of our sins. He gave Mary to John, the “disciple that he loved.” And she lived with John from that day forward.
I am living in that place. I am in John’s house.
He knows how bad this hurts, and He comes down to me in the exact measure of that hurt. I can breathe in the Grace and the healing. And all the pain becomes joy and thanksgiving in an instant.
I know people want to know what it’s like to be in this limbo…
…To be in the waiting room.
They ask all the time; prospective adoptive parents, adoption blog-stalkers, ambulance chasers….And in the questions, I can feel them weighing it out against their own abilities…
They know adoption is hard…but HOW HARD is it?
For all of you who want to know: You CAN’T handle it. It’s too hard. God handles it. And He makes it easy.
He gives you the kind of faith you need to leave your two babies behind in an orphanage and fly home without them, even though after only 11 days, you love those children as much as you love the children you labored and bled for. It’s unthinkable.
AND. You go home with joy in your heart over promises to be fulfilled.
He creates even more joy in your life than you ever thought possible. You get to watch Him create beauty from ashes within your own soul without any help from you.
God gives an incredible gift to adoptive parents: He gives you a broken heart, put together in a new way. More like His. You get to undergo Heavenly heart surgery at the Hands of the Master Craftsman.
And when that heart breaks all over again, and you find yourself lying on the floor with a dishrag in your hand, He fixes it. He makes it better.
He gives you your lost days BACK.
Like the day you caught your baby boy trying to nurse your arm, so you fed him his first Mommy-bottle, and suddenly you are THERE with your boy even though you are still on the kitchen floor….
God. Thank you for our Boy.
The Heavenly Father Himself rocks you in His arms on the kitchen floor, wipes your tears, puts your dishtowel back in your hand, stands you up, and moves your hand back and forth across the counter, wiping crumbs, and setting you back into your mother-motions.
He guides my eyes up to the picture of my children’s Nannies that I hung over my sink only moments before…
And He tells me that He’s got it covered.
He tells me that nothing is lost in Him.
He tells me that He will give me back all of these “lost days” with my children 100 times over in His name.
Because there are no such thing as lost days within Christ.
All those days. All 32 years before I loved Him. Not one of them wasted.
He promises restoration.
In the van, after I left them, I felt it. I felt a small portion of what God must feel for us. And how He waits. He waits for us. I join Him.
I walk upstairs with sippy cups in hand, to love the daughters who wait for me. I take a quick peek at a decorated and empty nursery, and I thank God almighty for His perfect timing.
I breathe in the God-air that fills my house heavy, saturating deep.
It is well…with my soul…I would not trade this wait for anything.
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Missy Roepnack
Missy and Paul Roepnack live in Cary, NC, with their two daughters Lilly and Daisy. After two children, six years of marriage, and a lifetime of lukewarm to room-temperature faith, they met Jesus. They quickly realized that there were two more little people missing from their family, and found them in Ethiopia. Join in on the ”fun” as they seek the sanity and strength that will be needed to outrun four children under four years old at The Oasis.
Love is a battlefield
Not long ago a pastor was praying over Nathan and I when he uttered words along these lines: “Satan doesn’t want this family to succeed so God be their anchor as he attacks them.” It was right then and there that I truly understood what a war zone our entire family had just entered. I always “knew” it would be hard to adopt a child, that there would be days I would get overwhelmed or the kids wouldn’t get along, and days when progress would feel limited, but it was in that moment I became aware that being under attack was going to be a permanent part of our story.
For we are not fighting against flesh and blood enemies, but against evil rulers and authorities of the unseen world, against mighty powers in this dark world and against evil spirits in the heavenly places. – Ephesians 6:12
If God is for us, who can be against us? He who did not spare His own Son, but gave him up for us all- how will He not also, along with Him, graciously give us all things? Who will bring any charge against those whom God has chosen? It is God who justifies. Who shall separate us from the the love of Christ? Shall trouble or hardship or persecution or famine or nakedness or danger or sword? As it is written:“For your sake we face death all day long; we are considered as sheep to be slaughtered.”No in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord. -Romans 8:31-39
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I have been married 9 years to a worship pastor, a rock star, and the most involved and intentional dad I have ever seen! Together, we have the privilege of parenting three amazing children (Jaxon- 7, Jovie- 4, and Jaydn 3). Jaydn came to us by way of adoption from Uganda, Africa. We live in Little Rock, Arkansas, but I am a west-coast girl at heart. I enjoy photography, adventure recreation, and teaching high-school students about Jesus. I enjoy writing as a way to learn life lessons out loud because, most of the time, the right (wise) answers are in me somewhere; I just have to dig to find them.
Learn when it hurts
During the seemingly endless & excruciating 18 month wait for our Joshua to come home from a Ugandan orphanage, there were so many times when I felt forgotten by my Heavenly Father. It was so contrary to what I anticipated. I assumed that like our first adoption, I would be comforted and encouraged by His presence throughout the journey. I expected to feel the reward of peace for our obedience. I expected His mighty hand to move mountains to get my child home in a reasonable (if not record) time. I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that He had called us to adopt again. I was 110% convinced that He had knit together this specific child in his mothers womb with a purpose, a purpose that included calling me “Mommy”. I was confident that we were obeying God’s leading. And yet, month after month I looked around and saw virtually no movement, no sense of urgency, no apparent desire from anyone who could actually do something, to get my child safely home. I helplessly looked around and cried out “Why have you forsaken me? Why have you forsaken this child? Where are you Lord?”
During the first 12 months of our wait, my heart would leap with excitement if I got an e-mail or phone call from our agency. But as time went on, my excitement slowly turned into bitterness. I was aware of what was going on politically in Uganda, therefore I knew that any contact from our agency was just to say “hang in there.” After about 16 months, with no hope on the horizon, I felt like my heart couldn’t “hang in there” much longer. One day, after opening (yet another) discouraging e-mail from our agency, I quickly excused myself to my room, closed the door and wept bitterly face down on my bed. I felt the pain over my entire body. My soul was weeping. Within about two minutes of closing the door behind me, my 8 year old, Faith, came barging in to tattle on her little brother “MOM!!! Hank just… Mom, are you o.k.?” I tried to hide my face in the blankets, calm my breathing and compose myself. I had tried so hard to keep my anguish from my children. We often cried and prayed together over Joshua, but I kept my grave weeping private, even from my husband who I knew would feel consumed by helplessness if he saw me in such a state. I didn’t want any of my family to see “the mommy” wholly & completely undone, defeated and crushed. Faith came to the edge of the bed and asked “Mommy, are you sad because Joshy isn’t home yet?” “Yes baby.” I squeaked out “My heart really, really hurts to be away from him for so long.” She stood there in front of me at a loss for words. With my face still buried in my blankets, I felt her sweet little fingers stroke my hair. As I took deliberately large breaths, she broke the silence when she started praying over me. I could no longer breathe. She said “Dear Jesus, we have faith that you know what you are doing. And I know that you could have already had Joshy home if you wanted to because you can do anything. But I also know that sometimes you let us hurt because you want to teach us something that we can only learn when it hurts. Please help us to learn whatever it is that you want to teach us and then bring Joshua home super soon. I love you. Amen.” I lay there in awe of God’s incredible provision, in awe that my child was ministering to me, in awe of the wisdom, discernment and faith of this child, in awe that when she had no words to comfort me, she knew that the Great Comforter was always right there. I then realized, for the first time, that in this agonizing wait, He WAS showing Himself so tangibly to me.
After I semi-composed myself, I looked up at her sweet concerned face and I said “You know what, Faith? Joshua is still so young that he may not even know that he was once an orphan who now has an adoring family waiting for him to come home. Though, he may have a faint idea of who we are from the pictures we have sent him, we are not real to him right now. And because we are not real to him, he can’t possibly love us yet. But WE know that HE is real and we already love him desperately. We know specific details about him, we have his room and his clothes all ready for him, we pray for him every day, we miss him every second, we feel incomplete without him here, we yearn for him to be home with us where he belongs, we cry over his absence, and pray for the day he will finally be in our arms. You see, if nothing else, this painful wait for Joshua can teach us one thing. Now, we may know a small fraction of how God feels when one of his children are separated from Him. Some people don’t know God exists because they are just babies, like Joshua. Some may have actually walked away from him. And some people may not know He really exists until they are 40 or 80! And the whole time God knows every detail about them, He is yearning for them, preparing a place for them, making plans for them, wanting to share life together, desperately loving them, wanting them safely in His arms and safely on His path, and all the while He patiently waits for them to come home to Him.” And that is when my precious Faith said “Ya… but Mom, the real reason I came in here is because Hank pushed me.” … All I could do was laugh! Our God sure has a wonderful sense if comedic timing, doesn’t He?
Isaiah 43:2 & 5 say “When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and when you pass through the rivers, they will not sweep over you. When you walk through the fire, you will not be burned; the flames will not set you ablaze. Do not be afraid, for I am with you; I will bring your children from the east and gather you from the west.”
Fortunately our God is HUGE and I believe that he can handle our questions, our anger, our fear and our honest broken hearts. There are times when we all must walk through the fire, and many stages of the adoption process can cause us to cry out “why have I been forsaken?” And yet, even in our anguish, He is good…always! Our God can handle anything we can throw at Him and He uses “ALL things to work for good for those who love Him and are called according to His purpose”…even our heartache. He is good, He is real, He is love. Even when we endure pain so intense we think it will do us in, He holds each tear in His hands and carries us through the pain. I am learning how to cling to hope and believe in His promises, “for faith is being sure of what we hope for and certain of what we do not see” Hebrews 11:1
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Heather and her husband Russ have been blissfully married for 15 years and are blessed to have their quiver full of 5 fabulously unique children. The first three came the old fashioned way and the last 2 through the blessing of adoption. Their first 3 were born in Oregon, child #4 was born in S. Korea and was adopted 5 years ago and child #5 was born in Uganda and was adopted a little over a year ago. Heather is a full time mom and part time home school teacher.
No Debate
This post has been being written over and over again in my brain several times over the last few months. Last night I couldn’t sleep at all over it, so it’s time to get it out and put it to rest so I can get some rest! Way to often recently, an ugly debate has been raising its head on social network sites and quite honestly, I believe it grieves the Lord, and fuels the enemy’s fire to steal kill and destroy.
Domestic Adoption
vs.
International Adoption
If you have sensitive toes, you may want to stop reading about now. Because some things just need to be said.
First of all:
This is an argument we should NOT be having.
Disunity in the Body of Christ is a disgrace to the Lord. John 17:23 says that by our unity, the world will know that we are Christians and they would know how much we love people. Ephesians 4:13 says that unity is a sign of maturity. We are immature believers if we are arguing over this issue. We are NOT showing the world Jesus and we are NOT showing the world how much He loves them. If you want to talk to a family about their motivations behind one or the other, do it in private. I am 100% willing to bet that you will come to complete understand about their reasoning. At the end of the day, this argument only brings DISTRACTION from the real issue….every child deserves a family. And the enemy is having a party if he can take the focus off these children, and onto one another and ridiculous arguing.
Second:
No one child is more deserving than another.
I have worked for an adoption agency for 5 years now. The first three were spent in the domestic program. Over the course of that 3 years, I got to be in the delivery room 32 times to welcome precious children into this world. I took custody of 32 babies and handed over the majority of those tiny, squirming infants into the arms of adoptive mamas and daddies. I helped new parents figure out infant car seats and walked sobbing birth mothers out of the hospital and drove them home. Often times, the birth mom didn’t want to see the newborn. I spent many hours, in empty L&D rooms, with fresh newborns, rocking and praying over them, assuring them that they had a family coming. And they always did. More often than not, I was in tears as well just watching the process.
Those babies are just as orphaned as the ones in China. They are no more deserving of a family……and to say, “why go overseas when you can adopt right here in your neighborhood” is a very western, selfish, american, ugly, thing to say.
NO one child is more deserving than another.
NOT. ONE.
I dare you to look at my children and say that they were less deserving because they were born in China. I bet not one person who has made that statement above would believe that if they spent one hour with my kids. Adoption is a picture of the very gospel….and to say one person is more deserving than another is a slap in the face to our call to care for the orphan. People who make this debate would never comment on a missionaries post and say, “why are you going to serve overseas when there are people right here who need Jesus?” Doesn’t that sound absurd? It sounds just as absurd when you ask it of the orphan.
Third:
Families go where God calls them.
Why did we adopt from China?
We had children there.
The Lord made that crystal clear.
We would’ve gone to China, Africa, Arkansas, or the North Pole if the Lord had asked us to. The Lord calls us the Body of Christ….we each have a function. If we were all called to the same place and the same thing, the world would be boring and lots would go undone. If we were all called to care for China’s orphans, the rest would go unnoticed. When families call me and ask about the process, the first thing I say, every single time, is “pray about WHERE.” Then call me back when God tells you, and we’ll move forward. Praise the Lord we are all called to different places!!! We get to be His hands and feet right here in our backyards and overseas!!! That ought to make us rejoice, not debate!!
Lastly:
Be respectful and prayerful.
People need Jesus. Children need families. Families need children. Before you take a stab at an adoptive parents motivation, consider what YOU might do. If you look around and you aren’t doing a thing, please keep your opinions to yourself. Adoptive parenting is HARD ENOUGH. Adoption brings baggage. Even to a two day old infant. It’s a lifetime process and is a beautiful thing. It’s a good hard. Instead of debating, we should be praying for one another. Asking the Lord what we can do. Holding the hand of a broken mama who’s birth mom has changed her mind, and the baby has to go back. Bringing dinner to the family who just came home from two weeks overseas and can’t get their days and nights turned back around. Serve one another! (1 Peter 4:10)
Toes ok?
Put it to rest, friends. Give it up. Let it go. If you are called to this road, celebrate it with one another. It will change you…….and it’s not a glamorous life. Adoption changes the way you see the Lord, changes your checkbook and how you spend your money, and gives you a burden that some days is all consuming. If you haven’t been on this road, respectfully keep your opinions to yourself. Be the Body of Christ that we are called to be to one another and to a dying world that needs Jesus like nobody’s business. And if we are going to fight over something, let it be:
Philippians 1:27
Above all, you must live as citizens of heaven, conducting yourselves in a manner worthy of the Good News about Christ. Then, whether I come and see you again or only hear about you, I will know that you are standing together with one spirit and one purpose, fighting together for the faith, which is the Good News.
my lil' fighter
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Emily Flynt
- Emily and Jay have been married for 11 years and have 5 childen–Avery 8, Ally 6, Annalyse 4, Ashley 3, and (finally) our BOY, Asher 2. Ashley and Asher were adopted from China and were both special needs adoptions. Jay is an associate pastor at Sherwood Baptist Church in Albany, GA, and Emily spends her days chasing toddlers and waiting in line at carpool. Her favorite place in the world is in her van, all alone with the worship music blaring! She would count it an honor to have you be encouraged at www.ourhimpossiblejourney.blogspot.com.
How Dare I Not?
My mother has a friend, an elderly man, who was preparing to go on a cruise. This first required a flight and before leaving for the airport the man, knowing that he might be walking on some uneven territory, grabbed an old cane, a walking stick that had belonged to his grandfather. It had sat in the corner, used only occasionally.
The man and his traveling companions stood in line for security at the airport. They noticed that those to whom they had entrusted to keep them safe were eying his cane very carefully, examining it from every angle. Suddenly, to the extreme surprise of the gentleman, the agent pulled on the cane and out whisked a very long, very sharp sword.
Chaos ensued. The travelers were rushed away, interrogated, but fortunately were deemed harmless and allowed to travel, sans the antique threat to national security.
It’s been dry around here lately. My heart, I mean. My spirit is parched.
Last November I spoke at a retreat on the extremely weighty issue of how God uses our suffering for His glory. I believed that God had called me to tackle this topic but the stress of it was overwhelming. After reading every book I could find on suffering, listening to every podcast, and pouring over every bible verse, and trying not to throw up in between sessions, I was drained. I had immersed myself in the Word for weeks and when it was all over, my sin nature immediately said “No more! Bring on the chick lit! DVR up the drivel! I need a break from all things deep and godly!”
It’s disgusting, actually.
About this same time, I discovered things about the adoption industry in Ethiopia that ushered in more nausea. Overwhelmed by information and confronted by the shocking ugliness of sin, plus accepting that bringing our daughter home is probably not on God’s agenda for 2012 caused my spirit to withdraw even more. Am I angry at God? I don’t think so. Am I jaded and cynical? More than ever before. Am I in despair? Yes.
Throw in the all the other worldly diversions and my bible has sat neglected for weeks.
My soul almost recoils at the thought of reading it. My short prayers consist mainly of, “I’m really sorry God. Thank you for loving me anyway.”
Oh wretched woman that I am! Who shall deliver me from this body of death?
This past weekend I went to a retreat in Atlanta, designed just for moms who have or will adopt. My soul was refreshed by being around other wonderful, loving, God-seeking, hysterical moms who share my heart.
But there was also a constant reminder that this business we are in, this orphan care business, requires our hearts to confront the gut wrenching consequences of sin on a daily basis: corruption, rejection, racism, illness, disease, or the exhaustion that ensues from the commitment to help heal the broken heart of a child.
And as I sat in the dark surrounded by like minded sisters, my mind wandering while godly speakers spoke of godly redemption, a Godly voice whispered to me, How dare you?
How dare you decide to neglect Me now?
Indeed, how dare I?
During the time preceding my marriage, I was immersed in the word of God. Between BSF, Beth Moore Tuesdays, an obscene amount of time to myself, and equally hungry friends who enjoyed discussing theology late into the night, I dove deep into Scripture almost daily. My future husband and fellow BSF leader was one of those hungry friends. Our marriage, all nine stressful years of it, has been blessed and happy. I am convinced it is because we were both bathed, powdered and lotioned in the Holy Spirit for years before we walked down that aisle.
Yet here I am, in the adoption process, entering straight into the lair of the Enemy, answering the challenge from the prince of this world with some dust from a dried up brook. I’m daring to call my own a child whom he had assumed would be his – and I’m choosing banality over the Living Word of the One whom he hates the most.
How dare I?
Hebrews 4:12 says “the word of God is living and active. Sharper than any double-edged sword, it penetrates even to dividing soul and spirit, joints and marrow; it judges the thoughts and attitudes of the heart.”
I’ve taken that sword, sheathed it, hidden it away in a corner. I’ve occasionally pulled it out as a cane, a whimsical decorative piece, leaning on it briefly only when I felt exceptionally weary.
I have neglected it, but it has not neglected me. From the dusty corner it has continued to judge the thoughts and attitudes of my heart – my selfish, desperate, lazy heart.
Things must change.
Things will change.
Are you tired? Worn out? Burned out on religion? Come to me. Get away with me and you’ll recover your life. I’ll show you how to take a real rest. Walk with me and work with me—watch how I do it. Learn the unforced rhythms of grace. I won’t lay anything heavy or ill-fitting on you. Keep company with me and you’ll learn to live freely and lightly.
Matthew 11:29-30 (The Message)
I need a real rest given to me by my Sword, my Cane, my Crutch, my Savior – the only One who condescends to enter this broken heart.
Then I will whisk out that Sword and brandish it against all who threaten His plans – especially myself.
How dare I not?
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Missy
Not your typical “mommy blog,” Missy’s beautifully-written musings run the gamut from witty and light to deep, thought-provoking and prayer-invoking…often simultaneously. Her blog touches on anything and everything: the nitty-gritty of daily life with four small children, social/political commentary, the calling and pursuit of adoption, and the ups and downs of walking faithfully through life with her husband and for the glory of God.
Following a God-agenda
I’ll admit it. Sometimes I sit in the playroom with a baby in my lap and wonder if anyone will ever adopt some of these children. I know what their special needs are. Words that are probably foreign to many are now part of my regular vocabulary… but that doesn’t make them any less scary for the potential mamas and babas. Seeing these words – these diagnoses – on a child’s file can’t do anything but make the kids seem more needy… more hopeless.
But do you know what I’ve been learning? I’ve been learning that it’s not the people who have adoption agendas that bring these sweet babies home. It’s not families who have necessarily decided to adopt from a specific country at a specific time for a specific reason… no, it’s not that at all.
It’s families who have a God-agenda driving them. They’re the ones who bring home kids who might not make it. Kids who may have many surgeries ahead of them. Little girls and boys who may just never learn how to behave.
And that doesn’t mean that it’s any easier for these families. Just because they’re not happily jumping into this ‘pool’ and instead are being bounced off of the diving board by an all-powerful God doesn’t mean that this adoption is going to be easy or safe. Parenting, loving… it’s going to be rather scary, I think.
I’ve seen some of the needs here. I’ve met little girls whom I know will have lots of trouble attaching and behaving, if they ever figure it out. Children who probably won’t grow up normally; little ones that might not make it through the unexpectedly expensive and draining surgery, if they make it up to the surgery at all.
The word palliative is scary. So what happens when that’s the word that the doctor gives after looking at your child’s medical file? Or maybe you see the word “delayed” pop up much too frequently on her file, and you wonder what it really means.
There’s a lot that goes on in an orphan’s life between the special needs listed on their adoption paperwork and their real physical, emotional, and psychological condition. Sometimes gains are made when they get home, sometimes they slowly regress. So often the sweet almond-eyed Asian beauty you bring home is nothing like who you expected him or her to be.
But I think that maybe I’ve figured it out. Maybe I now know why families bring these unexpected blessings and unanticipated struggles into their lives.
Because they don’t have a choice.
Someone put them on a God-roller coaster, and there’s no way to get off until the ride is over. A picture on an advocacy site pulled a heartstring that caused a lump in the throat that led to sleepless nights, and the rest was history! Suddenly that long, long list of heart defects and grim “doctor’s opinions” didn’t matter at all. The established fact that this child might not even live until Travel Approval was a nonissue. Daddies are crying, and Mama Bears go into full-swing paper chase mode.
And there’s nothing that they can do about it.
God’s given them a mission. Scared out of their wits, these families go forward. They’ve never met these children before, yet something inside of them has gone into overdrive, and they know that they have to do whatever physically possible for their children.
There’s a huge risk to being willing. Who knows where God will meet you, plop you into one of His amazingly scary roller coaster rides and off you’ll go. Screaming to get off because it’s scary is 100% normal, from my experience. Deep down, the ride is exhilarating because you know that it’s all-God. He’s not safe (but don’t worry, you won’t fall off of the roller coaster), but He’s good, and He has the whole situation under complete control. Even your frazzled brain and confused heart.
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Hannah Samuels
When Hannah traveled to China in 2002 with her parents to adopt her sister Elisabeth, she fell in love with the country and people. In 2004, when her other sister Naomi was adopted, she started dreaming of going back. It took 5 years for that dream to come true. She now serves in a foster home for special needs orphans in China. Hannah spends her days studying, writing for the foster home and on her personal blog, Loving Dangerously, and most importantly, holding babies. Hannah loves the adventure of living overseas with her family. It’s not always easy, but it’s always worth it.
So We Wait…
So thankful that we can lift each other up in prayer…
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I have always viewed myself as a patient person, that is until we began this adoption process. There have been many times over these past 16 months that I have struggled with that word. The truth is, these past few months have been really difficult. There are moments when I am a hot mess trying to figure out why this is taking so long when we just want them home.
There have been moments when I have asked God how much longer? How much longer do we wait? How much longer do we put our lives on hold? Then I am brought back down to reality when He reminds me how long He waits for me. How long He waits for me to get it right. How being a follower of Christ isn’t living “my life” but the life that my Savior has written for me. So we wait….
We want to thank you for walking along side us during this time. Many of you have reached out to us with encouraging words and countless prayers for our family. It is those faithful prayers that have given us strength and helped carry us through the tough times.
We are currently waiting for a document from DRC so our case can be sent to immigration. Please pray that our faithful God will move mountains and that we’ll soon be one step closer to bringing them home.
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Jody Detmers
Jaason and I have been married for fourteen years and have been blessed with three biological children- Madi, Elijah, and Jacob. We are currently waiting to bring home our two little ones from the Democratic Republic of the Congo. The lessons we are learning about love through this adoption process are continually changing who we are forever. You can follow along at www.detmersfamilyadventures.blogspot.com
